


Sweet

by m0usielous1e



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, M/M, Past Abuse, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0usielous1e/pseuds/m0usielous1e
Summary: "He's always been the sweet one, my baby brother." Merle Dixon
Daryl returns from a run and complicates Jesus' life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I joined this ship fairly recently, as in less than a month ago and now I'm obsessed and like, I just really want this ship to happen, okay? Without further ado, here is my awkward first take on it.

Two weeks after he set out on a supply run with Tara and one week after both dropped out of radio range, Daryl and Tara came roaring into the Hilltop on his mangled bike. Both had clearly been through the ringer, the bike had a few new dents, Tara was wearing a man’s shirt and Daryl wasn’t even wearing his properly, instead tied awkwardly around a bundle in his front. But apart from that and some healing sunburn, both were back in one piece and Maggie, Sasha and Enid practically tripped over each other to greet them before Daryl could stop the bike.

Then Daryl waved them away, hopped off his bike and ran straight for the medical trailer, both arms around his stomach the whole way. Jesus stopped pretending to chat with the gate guards and ran after him.

Harlan had just opened the door to admit him when Jesus got there, with Tara and the other women hot on his heels. Daryl paid them no mind, addressing the doctor, “She’s probably about a year or two old, I don’t know. Mother threw her out a window at us. She looks fine and we gave her water and everything but I think we should make sure.”

“What? Who?” Maggie asked.

Tara hastened to help Daryl untie the sling he had made of his t-shirt, and then a tiny brown foot fell out. Maggie blinked. Sasha’s and Enid’s mouths fell open and then Harlan was with them, with a bracing hand over Daryl’s just as Tara got the sling down and the child rolled out onto the examination table. Jesus froze.

Daryl’s guess was good. The little girl could not have been more than two years old, with longish limbs still plump with baby fat, brown skin and thick, curly black hair in three thick plaits. She looked around at them and immediately started crying, arms up and reaching for Daryl. He let her hold onto him, to help her stand on the table and said, “They had a good set-up but something must have gone wrong. Place was overrun when we got there. We thought it was too late but then her mother was at the window. Kid cried all the way back.” He paused, shook his head letting his long hair fall into his eyes, looked down at the kid who was looking apprehensively at Harlan and said, “She don’t even know us, she just wanted her to live.”

“Oh my…” Maggie began, then stopped short. Her eyes were already shining with tears. She turned her back to dry her eyes and whispered unnecessarily, “Damn hormones.” 

Harlan had his stethoscope against the little girl’s back. She wore no diapers so she was possibly potty-trained, a bonus. He said, “Temperature is fine. Heart and lungs sound good.” He removed the stethoscope and pulled out his penlight to check her eyes and ears. She twisted her head away from him until Daryl grunted at her. Then she wrinkled her nose to cry, he grunted again and she stopped but scowled the whole time. Jesus lifted an eyebrow. The kid had grown attached pretty quick.

“Did you get her name?” asked Sasha.

“She’s been trying to tell us but it’s a bit mangled,” said Tara. “Sounds like ‘Ayla’ or ‘Aliya’. Daryl’s been calling her ‘Bruiser’.”

Glances were exchanged at this. Daryl pointedly ignored them. Jesus stepped forward and asked, “Did you see anyone else with her mother? Anyone who might be looking for them?”

“Nah,” said Daryl, trying to keep the girl calm and still under Harlan’s examination. “We hung around for a while to see if there were others but then her crying started drawing the dead out. Looked like the dad and brother got it first though. Mom was upstairs with the kid. They were on their own out there.”

“Okay,” said Jesus, nodding. “How long ago did you two find her? Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

Tara replied, “Yup. We had to take the long way back. Lost the car in the attack. Then we had to get extra fuel for the bike and look out for the kid’s people. Once we were clear we just decided to come straight here instead of heading to Alexandria to make sure the kid was okay. Is she okay?”

Harlan replied without looking up from testing the little girl’s reflexes, “Yup. Everything seems fine. She’s just a little dehydrated and hot but then so are you two just by looking.” Daryl must have flinched for Harlan paused to look at him, took a moment to consider what he had said and continued in a softer tone, “She was nice and warm in that pouch you made with your shirt. The last few nights were pretty cool and I’m not seeing anything to suggest it affected her. Like you and Tara here, she just needs a good meal, a bath and some rest.”

At that, Harlan released her with a smile and a playful tug on her hair. The girl reached for her hair and pressed herself into Daryl. Yup, she was definitely attached.

Maggie, having sufficiently recovered, stepped forward and reaching for the child, said, “Okay. Do you want to come with me, sweetie? There’s a bath and a big bowl of porridge with your name on it.”

The little girl looked at her outstretched hands, then down at her visibly round belly, and then turned her head away.

Maggie blinked again. Jesus bit back a smile. Clearly she was not used to rejection. Sasha stepped forward next and said, “Okay, so no. You don’t have to come with us, but you both have to get cleaned up and get some food. How about we all go to our trailer and take it one step at a time.”

The girl lifted her feet to climb up into Daryl’s arms almost before he could lift her. Sasha and Maggie exchanged a look. Daryl turned at once and headed out of the trailer. Tara watched them go and said, “Yeah, she won’t let anyone get between them. Once she realised that her parents weren’t coming for her, she decided that he was her new guardian and wouldn’t let him out of her sight. He went off for a bathroom break and she screamed bloody murder until he came back. You would think I wasn’t there the whole time.” She turned to Jesus to clap a hand onto his shoulder and said, “Good luck with that.”

Jesus exhaled heavily.

Tara was not lying. They eventually managed to wrangle the child away from Daryl, but only long enough for them both to have a bath. While he went to the shower, with the door open no less, Sasha and Enid washed her in a tub in the middle of the room. There were no children around her age at the Hilltop but they did manage to fashion an old t-shirt into a dress and found a spare pair of tiny shorts from Judith’s last visit. When she was sufficiently clean, Sasha combed her hair out while Enid and Maggie prepared the promised porridge. And then she refused to eat any of it until Daryl was also clean and dressed and seated beside her on the sofa.

Jesus had helped throughout, scrounging up the tub and spare clothes, but all the while thinking. He did not like the conclusion he was coming to.

Before, and even for quite some time after, he had never considered becoming a parent. For one, various laws and successive conservative lawmakers had done their best to make even having a relationship difficult. He could not blame his commitment issues on them though, that was his own problem as a few angry exes would attest. For some, the next world had been freeing, while others found themselves still trapped. Jesus had lived a little of both, but things had changed a lot since the day he swiped the keys off a cowboy and a redneck biker at an abandoned gas station.

As their meal progressed, Daryl and the little girl seemed to fold into each other. First she was pressed against his side, then she was sitting on a leg, forcing him to eat one-handed. She ate all of the porridge then leaned into him until he let her put her hands around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. A little while later she was out cold. Or at least, until anyone tried to get her down on the couch. Daryl finished his meal with her on his arm, and Jesus could not help but think it rather cute how the man went out of his way not to disturb the child. Then Daryl lay back on the couch, with the child sprawled across his chest, and went to sleep. It was not just the child who had gotten attached.  
They slept for hours like this, and Jesus watched them. The first night after he had brought Daryl back from the Sanctuary, he had done something similar. Then, Daryl had been laid up in the medical trailer being fussed over by Harlan and Maggie, now the women had shuffled off to other duties and left him to it. And as he watched the slumbering pair, he thought.

If anyone asked, Jesus would readily admit that he had been making some overt gestures in Daryl’s direction, albeit slowly. Daryl had never once flinched from his stare, nor expressed discomfort with the attention, but he had not responded as quickly as Jesus wanted either. He had been forced to throw every method of approach out the window and let Daryl take the lead. For now, the extent of the progress had been getting Daryl to spend time with him whenever he was at the Hilltop, whether it was assisting with some menial task or just playing cards. But until this moment, that had been fine. Time might be just as fickle in this world as the last, meaning that things went rather quickly or stubbornly slow, but Jesus was sure any day now he would have seen his efforts pay off. And now there was a child.

Jesus had nothing against children, but children were commitments and if the thought of being tied down to one person or place for the rest of his life had made him restless before, now, well… Just looking at the way that Daryl was with Carl and Judith, in spite of Rick and Michonne, it was clear that he was not going to leave ‘Bruiser’ be. Sure, Maggie or Sasha or even one of his people at the Hilltop could take the child on, but the child had already made her decision.

Midday had shifted to afternoon then night while Jesus watched the pair. Tara was supposedly knocked out on a couch in Maggie’s new office in Barrington and Sasha and Enid were on gate duty. Someone had sent word to Alexandria that the others were back but had not heard a reply. Jesus was sure it was only a matter of time before Rick or one of the others came barrelling through the gates to see for themselves how Daryl and Tara had managed, Negan be damned. The little girl had shifted off of Daryl’s chest somewhat, falling into the space between him and the upright cushions. Daryl had turned his body to prevent her from falling off and Jesus could just see the top of her head and her hands over the broad expanse of his back. 

Daryl still had the power to change this. He could, when he woke up and rest had cleared his mind, decide to hand the child over to someone else. It was not as if Daryl lived at Hilltop, and there was still Negan and the war to consider. A young child needed stability, and not just from her shelter, but the parent watching over her. Daryl was still dealing with his time in the Sanctuary and he and Jesus were the primary scouts and messengers for the various communities collaborating against Negan. He was going to have to leave her for long stretches of time at some point and she could not stand to be parted from him for longer than a few minutes. This was not going to work.

Jesus had not turned on the lights, not wanting to disturb their rest. Daryl woke with a grunt, some rustling and Jesus could just see the shift of the other man’s muscles as he checked on the girl. The child murmured a sleepy protest. Daryl froze for a moment, but she made no more noise, so he sat up and turned. That was when he noticed Jesus.

“What’s the matter? Why are you sitting here in the dark?” he asked, his voice thick and rough with sleep.

Jesus smiled, though he knew Daryl could not see it, and said, “You know why.”

They never spoke about it but Jesus’ rescue of Daryl from the Sanctuary had not ended the day when he helped deliver him to safety. Sometimes, Daryl tired himself out during the day so that he slept like a log, and sometimes he didn’t. Jesus usually found a way to be close by as often as he could because nightmares did not always respect Daryl’s need for a full night sleep. 

Daryl grunted and said, “She pissed herself. I think her mother was trying to train her…I need to tell Maggie.”

As Daryl mentioned it, Jesus picked up the acrid scent of urine. The little girl had not woken, too tired to notice, but she could not remain in her soiled clothes or the wet cushions. Jesus wrinkled his nose, stood and said, “I’ll do that. Get her off the cushions and you need to lose that shirt if she got anything on you.”

He did not wait to hear Daryl’s reply. Minutes later, the trailer was a hive of activity as Enid cleaned up the little girl, who was still stubbornly clinging to Daryl’s neck, crying and whimpering now for her interrupted sleep, and Jesus and Sasha took the cushions over to the laundry. 

Enid had been sleeping on the couch while Maggie and Sasha shared the tiny bed. Sleeping arrangements for the night would have to change. Jesus contemplated the room he sometimes slept in at the main house. On the rare occasions that he spent any length of time here, Daryl had slept on the floor of the trailer with the women. With Tara as well, space was going to be at a premium and there was no way the child would sleep in the bed with the others while Daryl took the floor. Jesus spoke without thinking about it, “There’s a bed in the house you can have for the night, Daryl.” All eyes turned to him. He refused to look away from the other man. “It would be much more comfortable for her than the floor. You know she won’t go into a bed if you’re not with her.”

“Nah,” said Daryl, already shaking his head. “Let Tara and Enid get it. I’ll get some pillows for the couch and put her there. She’ll stay.”

As if to make him a liar, the little girl turned her face into his neck and tightened her grip, already drifting back to sleep. The long week of travel had clearly taken a toll. 

“I’m not turning down a bed for the floor,” said Tara quickly. 

Jesus nodded, determined not to show his disappointment. Enid shook her head and said, “I’ll stay here.”

“No,” said Daryl. “We—”

Whatever he was going to say, they never found out. Shouts from the gate. Jesus, closest to the door, turned to look just as the guards swung them open. He tensed and noticed that the others had fallen silent. Then Rick Grimes, Michonne and Aaron walked in and he said, “Oh, Rick is here.”

Enid rushed up next to him to check and said, “Just them though, I think they came to see Daryl.”

Jesus bit back his smile at her action, noticed the others doing the same and said, “They’re heading for Harlan. I’ll bring them here.”

Once again he slipped out before Daryl could reply and tried to ignore the voice in his head that whispered “coward” in his wake. 

When he brought them to the trailer, now definitely packed, with no sitting room since the couch was still missing cushions, Rick stared at Daryl for nearly a minute in a stunned silence. Or maybe it was just the sight of the child on Daryl’s shoulder. Michonne and Aaron had been exchanging looks with the others in the background and Jesus was very sure that they had yet learned the whole story. It was kind of eerie how close this group was sometimes.

Finally, Rick managed to get over his shock at seeing his brother, and grinned. The others developed apprehensive looks, even Michonne, and then Rick said, “She’s cute, I’ll give you that, but I’m not sure how exactly we’re supposed to use her against Negan. Does she come with some kind of concealed weapon?”

There was a series of groans even as Rick finally went to hug him. Daryl hugged him back, both men mindful of the child between them, and grunted and said, “She don’t got no one left. We couldn’t just leave her there.”

Rick’s expression softened, his grin a small smile now and said, “And I didn’t expect you to. She must be no older than Judith. What’s her name?”

“Ayla,” said Tara, before Daryl could open his mouth. He eyed her but she resolutely ignored him.

“Ayla,” Rick repeated, glancing at Michonne. She shrugged and he asked, “What happened to her family’s camp?”

“Overrun,” said Daryl. He tightened his grip on the child, almost imperceptibly, but Jesus noticed and so did Rick.

Rick’s smile widened again and he said, “Well, it would be nice for Judith to have a friend around her age. We’re going to have to introduce them as soon as possible. Did you all find anything else while you were out there?”

And just like that, the matter was settled. Cushions were procured for the couch and Daryl laid the girl back onto it, then sat beside her to prevent her from rolling to the floor. Jesus forced himself to look away. The sight of Daryl being so parental was bad for his health and his heart. Jesus was commitment shy, he did not do them no matter what he was trying to start with Daryl. It was just that, Daryl was making commitment look rather good.

While Daryl and the others talked, Jesus took a moment to look over the child. Ayla had gotten hold of a corner of Daryl’s shirt and slept with it in her tiny fist. She was not at all shy about committing to a long-term relationship. If they made it through this war, she, like Judith, like Maggie’s unborn child, like Carl, was going to grow up in a terrifying world of monsters and monstrous men. The sweetness of her adoptive father, if that was what Daryl was seriously going to be, would only shield her for so long. But for as long as she had Daryl, he would try. And Jesus could have some of that too, if only he was willing to let himself experience it.

“…Jesus? Jesus?”

“Paul!” Daryl snapped.

That got Jesus’ attention. Only Daryl ever called him by his real name, though he did not do it often.

Jesus turned to them and Rick said, through an annoying smirk, “We’re going to need to check out the camp Ayla came from. Are you up for it?”

“They need more rest,” he said, looking pointedly at Daryl.

Daryl took the high road and pretended to check on Ayla. Jesus said, “Yes. But not tomorrow. She’s not going to want to part from him.”

Rick nodded, conceding that point, and said, “First light the day after tomorrow.” He turned to Daryl and said, “It’s good to have you back, the both of you.”

Tara waved him off with a scoff, though she was smiling, and said, “Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of Daryl first. I’m a big girl, I can take it. I’m just glad to be off of that bike.”

Hours later, Ayla slept curled into Tara on the refurbished couch. Rick and Michonne had turned down the spare bedroom in the main house, much to everyone’s surprise, choosing instead to take the floor with Aaron and Sasha. Jesus suspected that they all wanted to avoid Rick murdering Gregory in the night, but Daryl did not seem to mind the crowding for once. He happily retold the story of his and Tara’s run and Ayla’s rescue, though it was hardly a happy story. Jesus watched him for a while, then excused himself to go “check the grounds” when Daryl draped Ayla across his lap after the girl woke up complaining for him. Jesus’ checks took him two hours and when he got back to the trailer, Daryl was sat smoking on the steps and the room behind him was silent.

Jesus stopped before him and said, “There any room left in there?”

Daryl looked at him, inhaled, blew out a long, lazy trail of smoke and said, “Nope.”

“You should rest,” said Jesus, holding his gaze.

“So should you,” said Daryl. It was a familiar refrain. They had had versions of this same conversation many times before.

Jesus sighed and said, “She’s more attached to you than Tara.”

Daryl grunted at that, dropped his cigarette and smashed it into the ground with the toe of his boot. Jesus watched him and asked, “Are you thinking about raising her?”

“Kid needs a family,” said Daryl. “I ain’t Rick. If someone around here can do better, they’re welcome to try. She can’t come with us on the trip back though. If we see anyone looking for her, we may have to bring them back here or Alexandria.”

It was an answer, but not the one Jesus wanted to hear. Maybe it was too soon to worry about that. Maybe in the morning, Ayla would start warming to the others and Jesus and Daryl could go back to circling each other. Not likely, not from the way she clung to him, but there was still hope. And then Daryl said, “I caught her. Damn near threw my back out and dropped the bike on Tara, but I couldn’t let her fall.”

Jesus inhaled. The air smelled of nicotine, the woods and just a hint of decay. Daryl lit another cigarette. Jesus exhaled and said, “One day she’s going to forget that there was any life before you. You don’t even really know her name, and no, you cannot call her ‘Bruiser’. You’re not allowed to name things from now on, you hear me?”

Daryl said nothing. Jesus stepped closer and said, “But if you do this, you’re going to have to live like Rick. You cannot always be out there. You’re going to have to pick a place and stay there.”

“Did I say that I was going to keep her? I ain’t her daddy, I ain’t no kind of daddy she needs,” said Daryl, glaring at Jesus now.

Jesus shook his head gently and said, “But you’re considering it. I know you by now, I think. You only caught her because you got off your bike to try to save her family. Her mother threw her down to you, not because you were in a safe place but because she saw you trying to save her and knew that if you were trying that hard, you couldn’t be that bad. She’s more attached to you than Tara, despite Tara being a woman because you hardly let the kid out of your arms and made her feel safe. And despite knowing the life you live, that we all live, you’re thinking about keeping her now because you feel that you owe it to her mother to keep her alive, to see her grow like Carl and Judith. That’s who you are Daryl Dixon, and I’ve spent the entire day trying to convince myself that you’re not so that when it gets too much I can just walk away, no questions asked.”

Daryl met his gaze again. Jesus felt his heartbeat speed up but he refused to let it show on his face. Instead, he said, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Daryl, with a shrug. “You planning on running?”

Jesus folded his arms and said, “I told you before, when things start piling up, I get out of there. It would be wrong of me to just walk out on her life.”

“But it’s okay to walk out on mine?” asked Daryl, glaring at him again.

Jesus sighed, stepped back. Daryl stood up and stepped towards him, invading his personal space and said, “You think I would be any more okay with that, than she would? Nah. If you want to leave, then yeah, go ahead. But don’t waste my time. Don’t start nothing you don’t plan on finishing. I was fine before I met you, don’t need that kind of drama now.”  
Jesus dropped his gaze to the path between them, swallowed and said, “See that’s the thing, I don’t want to leave. I feel…I feel like this is the point where I should run and I have been with you two all day and I can’t sleep now unless you’re there.” He looked up again to meet Daryl’s gaze and said, “I’ve been trying to talk myself into running away and I can’t come up with a single excuse. I’m not actually afraid of this, of us and her. I should be, I usually am at this point and all I can think about is that you cannot do anything stupid out there and get yourself killed because she needs you, we will need you, I need y—”

He was cut off by a kiss. Daryl grabbed him by the collar and smashed their mouths together but it worked. Jesus forgot what he was going to say and then, when Daryl opened his mouth for a breath of air, allowing him to deepen it, what they were talking about. But then Daryl began to withdraw, perhaps belatedly worried about the other man’s reaction so Jesus put his hands up around his neck and let him know exactly what he thought. The need for air ended it, but they remained close, foreheads pressed together, and Daryl said, “Then stop thinking about it. It ain’t damn rocket science or cards. Give your brain a rest and let things happen.”

Jesus snorted and said, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Yeah? Then how come I’m not the one having a breakdown about now?” asked Daryl.

Jesus shook his head and stepped back, though not too far, and said, “I can’t promise you that I won’t try to run later.”

Daryl eyed him a moment and said, “I can’t promise you that I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t let my family die again, not if I can help it.”

Jesus realised that was as good as he was going to get. He opened his mouth to try again, when he noticed that the door had opened behind them. He tapped Daryl’s shoulder and jerked his head. Ayla stood in the doorway watching them, and as soon as she met Daryl’s gaze she ran down the steps to him. He turned, bent and swung her up into his arms.

“What are you doing up, Bruiser?” he asked as she nestled against him.

She did not reply but closed her eyes again to go back to sleep. Jesus did not miss that she completely ignored him. To think his biggest problem was getting Daryl to trust him. He looked up at Daryl to find the other man smirking at him. Damn, that was hot. Double damn, he should have taken off when he had the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not planning to do this, because I realise I'm struggling to write multi-chapter fics these days, but this would not let me go. Apologies in advance.

It did not take Ayla long to establish a pecking order. At the top, of course, was Daryl, followed closely by Tara and Enid, who played with her, and then there was everyone else. Jesus had apparently been lumped in with everyone else and he really tried not to be hurt by that.

The return to Ayla’s family camp was as fruitless as expected. Her family was barely surviving out there, with one gun and no ammo and a plethora of homemade and improvised weapons to defend themselves with. The cause of their fall turned out to be a flaw in the spiked fence they had put up, one side had been planted shallowly in mud and all it took was a little pressure from a herd and that was the end.

Daryl had insisted that they bury what was left of Ayla’s parents and older brother. Jesus helped while Tara and the others scavenged the rest of the child’s clothes and searched for any sign that she had any medical conditions that would need attending to. They did not find any clues as to the child’s actual name.

When they returned to the Hilltop, Daryl went straight to the Alexandrians’ trailer, gathered Ayla up in his arms—jolting her from her nap in the process—and just sat holding her. She protested a little, but only half-heartedly, and then went back to sleep. Jesus watched the exchange and said, “I want you to consider something.”

Maggie and Sasha had taken Enid and cleared out of the trailer once Jesus followed Daryl in, so it was just the three of them. Daryl looked up at him. Jesus took a breath and, holding his gaze, said, “I want you to move in with me. The both of you. Maggie doesn’t want the room in the main house and you’re all cramped up together in here. Her crib wouldn’t even take up that much space.”

Daryl stared at him for a time, silent. Jesus tried not to fidget. They had only really had this relationship for two days. Moving in together was a _huge_ step, especially since Daryl was only hiding out at the Hilltop until he could return to Alexandria. Especially since Jesus had always been the one to do the moving in a relationship, usually away and out the door. At that thought, Jesus said, “You don’t have to say anything now. Like I said, I want you to consider it. For whenever you’re at Hilltop, you would have a place.”

Daryl nodded at this, then resettled Ayla on the couch and said, “Okay. Too much oestrogen in here anyway.”

Ayla moved in first. That very afternoon, Jesus and Daryl had been dispatched on separate missions to deliver messages to the Kingdom and the ASZ, and then Daryl went off with Tara to Oceanside. Jesus did not find this out until he returned to the Hilltop the next day when he went to check on Maggie. To say that Ayla was displeased that he had showed up alone was to put it mildly.

Though they had been reassured by both Tara and Daryl that Ayla could talk, it was not until late in the next day after her arrival that she did. And once she was awake and fed, she did not stop.

“Where is Daryl?” she asked as Jesus walked into the trailer.

Sasha, who had been combing the child’s hair again, gave Jesus an apologetic smile and said, “Don’t take it personally, she asks everyone who comes through the door.”

Jesus nodded at this, then took a knee before the child and said, “Hello Ayla, how are you today?”

“Where is Daryl?” she asked again, expression unchanged. At least she spoke to him. Most people were still being given a hard pass and that included Rick, who she had pushed away when he came in to give Daryl a parting hug.

Manners was clearly something they would have to work on. Goodness, Jesus was thinking about parenting. He forced a smile onto his face and said, “I don’t know. We went off in separate directions.”

Without missing a beat, she asked, “When is Daryl coming back?”

And this is when Maggie stepped into the trailer, dusting the dirt off the sides of her pants with one hand and the remnants of tears on her face with the other and said, “Alexandria, like I told you the last hundred times you asked. And we don’t know.” To Jesus, “You should go get cleaned up. We girls have been bonding while you’ve been away. How’s Carol?”

Carol was…well, to quote Rick Grimes, a force of nature. And quick on the draw. She had been giving Jesus suspicious looks from the first day he had brought Daryl to see her after the escape and at first, for the life of him, Jesus could not figure out why. This time around she had been no less curt and irritated than any other but Jesus would eat his hat if her parting words about safe travels had not been a threat. He did not look forward to telling her about the change in his and Daryl’s relationship.

“Oh, fine,” he replied, breezily, taking Ayla’s fingers out of her mouth. “Daryl wants to take Ayla to meet her one day soon. Tell her about everything all at once.”

He did not have to look at Maggie to know that her eyebrows were probably making a run for her hairline, because Sasha mirrored it perfectly. They had become eerily close in the past several weeks in the sense that they seemed to be of one mind for two women who could not have been more different. Then Sasha said, “Thought you said that it didn’t look as if she liked you. Can’t have been a fun conversation.”

“Maybe Ayla will distract her,” said Jesus. He pulled Ayla’s hand out of her mouth again and she swatted at him. He grasped her hand and shook a warning finger at her. She glared but made no further move to retaliate. If Daryl had been here she would not have attempted it, but again, Jesus was lumped in the “everyone else” category on her pecking order.

“Unlikely,” said Maggie and Sasha both, then glanced at each other and laughed.

Dinnertime came and with it news of Daryl and Tara’s mission. Jesus decided to go to bed early, frustrated and suddenly lonely without Daryl around. After that first night’s kiss, their relationship had gone no further than a few hot and heavy make-out sessions when they had the time. It was surprisingly annoying. Daryl might not have had too much experience but he was enthusiastic. The memory of his tentative wandering hands and ever so rude mouth had meant that Jesus’ last two nights’ rest had been…fitful, to say the least, and not just because he wanted to take Daryl to bed already.

It was one thing to decide to give this commitment thing a try. It was another thing entirely when you walked around worrying about what you were going to do if the sex sucked. And, to be frank, the first time around it was going to. Worse, everyone was going to know about it once they started because there was Ayla. No way in hell anything was happening with that kid in the room. Turned out, she was a very good parrot and well, no.

Jesus had just started to drift off at last, stubbornly refusing to give himself some relief, when someone knocked at the door. He contemplated ignoring it, and then Ayla called, _“Paul!”_

Of course, Ayla had picked up the habit from Daryl and refused to use anything else. Jesus did not like her tone when she did either, as if she was his mother or some kind of queen. Just where did this little girl get off? He was up and heading for the door before he could quite register moving. Sasha waited for him on the other side with Ayla on her hip and an annoyed look on her face. He looked them both over, noted no injuries and asked, “What is it?”

“The kid wants you,” Sasha replied, then she lifted the girl off her hip and held her out to him.

Stunned, Jesus took Ayla onto his own hip and watched Sasha turn and walk away without further explanation. Ayla offered none either, and instead asked, “Where is Daryl?”

Jesus took a breath, closed the door and said, “Still out. You heard what Maggie said, he won’t be back for a while. I’m sure he’s doing all he can to get back to us quickly but it will take some time.”

“How long?” asked Ayla.

Jesus walked back to the bed, set the girl down onto it beside him and said, “Too long.”

The girl was once again wearing an oversized t-shirt, one of Daryl's that Rick had brought over, and her hair in thick, loose pigtails. She did not look chilled, but Jesus still wrapped the sheet around her. He wished he had one of Daryl's t-shirts to sleep in. Ayla asked, “Where is Tara?”

“She went with Daryl,” said Jesus. He scooted backward onto the bed and lay down. Ayla crawled up closer to him but remained seated. Jesus could not help but think of another life where the idea of a gay man sharing a bed with a child he had not sired himself would have unsettled many. Hopefully all who had the gall to associate this with paedophilia were all dead. All he could think of laying here was the great pains Daryl took not to crush Ayla in her sleep while she crawled all over him. Daryl made it all seem so easy and uncomplicated. He smiled at her and said, “Maybe he will bring you something to make up for being away so long.”

In fact, Jesus was sure Daryl would. Ayla, instantly cheered, asked, “What will he get me?”

“I don’t know,” said Jesus, feeling sleepy again. “What do you like?”

“I want a motorcycle,” she said.

Jesus laughed. 

The night passed without incident, though Ayla was an early riser and refused to let anyone sleep once she was up. When Jesus brought her down for breakfast, Maggie smiled and said, “I guess without Daryl around she just wanted the next best thing.”

She must have thought she was doing a good job of hiding her disappointment over the child’s rejection, but having gone through it himself, Jesus was not fooled. But she was not wrong, for after that, Ayla had insisted on going to bed with him instead of remaining in the trailer. She also insisted on following him everywhere, asking questions about everything and everyone they encountered, even Gregory. Thankfully, their fearful leader appeared not to notice that the child, like Sasha, was not originally from their community and so Jesus was spared the headache.

Daryl’s return coincided with another meeting that Jesus had been anticipating and dreading in equal measure since he started up with the Alexandrian archer. Worse, it happened with Ayla.

Ayla had sneezed one time too many after he gave her a bath, his first time doing so and unsupervised no less because the others were suddenly busy, so Jesus had quickly bundled her up in a dry towel and hurried her over to the medical trailer. Dr Carson was out but Alex was in. Alex, Jesus’ on-again, off-again lover of the past two years. Alex who Jesus had been unable to commit to. Alex who seemed to be the only one to notice the way Jesus had been tracking Daryl with his eyes whenever the Alexandrians were around. Jesus froze in the doorway of the trailer with Ayla in his arms, surprised at the sight of the other man when he should not have been and then the little girl sneezed again and Alex said, “Bring her to the table. Does she have a fever? How long has she been sneezing?”

That snapped Jesus out of his catatonia. He hurried over as he replied, "Only for the past five minutes but I just gave her a bath and I'm wondering if the water was too cold." 

As she had done that first day with Dr Carson, Ayla refused to sit still for examination so Jesus was forced to hold her. This meant he had to get in close with Alex and it did not take long for things to get awkward, especially when Alex said, “I’ve noticed that she’s been sleeping in your room now.”

Jesus feared no one and nothing, least of all this situation with his ex, so he formed a smile and his most nonchalant tone and said, “She saw Daryl and I leave together and I came back alone, so I think she’s just waiting to see if I’m going to slip up and reveal where I hid the body.”

Alex smiled back and said, “Or she misses him and knows that you two are close.”

Jesus almost opened his mouth to protest that he and Daryl had never spent the night in that room together, thought better of it and asked, “Did I give her pneumonia?”

Alex glanced down at the child between them and said, “No. Nothing that some warm soup won’t fix. I’ll still give her a little medicine to boost her immunity. In the future, maybe dry her hair properly after you give her a bath. Don’t think her daddy would appreciate her being sick very much.”

Jesus inhaled. It was not a dig. There was nothing to be upset about and yet here he was. This was too much too soon. He could not do this. He had tried to tell Daryl. He was the wrong man for this, no matter what his heart was trying to get him into. He exhaled and said, “Good thing we’ve got you and Dr Carson then.”

There was blessed silence for a while, well except for Ayla’s protests against the examination, and then, “This is a big step, a kid. Wouldn’t be fair to walk out on her once she gets used to you.”

Jesus inhaled again, held it for a beat, exhaled and said, “I could die tomorrow. Anyone of us could. This world does not care about fair anymore.”

Alex met his gaze for another beat, then turned around and headed for the shelves just as the door opened behind them and Daryl charged in, and stopped. Both men froze, but Ayla started bouncing in Jesus’ arms and cried, “Daryl! Daryl!”

Jesus was forced to adjust his grip as the child tried to break free of him. Daryl glanced down at her, then up at the two men and asked Jesus, “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” said Alex, smiling genially. “Just the sniffles. I’m going to give her a little syrup and you can take her home.” He turned again to retrieve a bottle from the shelf and asked, “Is there anything you need checked out, while you’re here?”

Daryl knew about Jesus and Alex. It was not exactly a secret, could not have been in a tiny community like the Hilltop, and Jesus did not think that Daryl had ever cared. Well, he had not until this moment. As soon as Alex turned, Daryl advanced into the room until he was standing so close Jesus could feel the heat of his body like a physical thing, and grunted, “You okay?”

“Peachy,” said Jesus. He let Ayla go at last and she immediately threw herself into Daryl.

“Daryl! Daryl! You were gone too long! Where did you go? Do you know what we did today?” Daryl lifted her off the table and kissed her forehead. She had not stopped talking. “Maggie made me porridge again, but Paul put fruit in it. Did you bring fruit? Did you bring me anything?”

Alex turned back with the dose at the ready to find his patient engaged in a serious conversation that involved her cradling Daryl's jaw in her hands to keep his attention on her, and turned to Jesus and said, “Maybe this will be easier coming from you.”

It wasn’t, but after Daryl scolded Ayla, she reluctantly opened her mouth. Alex repeated his prescription for soup for Daryl’s benefit and then sent them on their way. Jesus led the way back to the trailer, to find that the others had returned. There was no time for explanation after that. News from Oceanside and Alexandria was good. Negan was putting the screws to Rick and the others, still looking for Daryl, but so far, he was unaware of their collaboration. Tara had opted to remain in Alexandria to help Rosita, but they would have to head to the Kingdom soon, if only to speed things up. Rick had also spoken of a secret weapon but not in detail. By the time they had finished speaking, it was late and Ayla had been out for hours beside Enid on Maggie’s bed.

When Daryl yawned one time too many, Maggie said, “Okay, we’re going to continue this tomorrow. Why don’t you guys go on up?”

Jesus had not forgotten about the change in Ayla’s sleeping arrangements, no, he just had not had any time to mention it to Daryl. Daryl turned to him then, and Jesus stood up and said, “We should let you all rest.” 

Jesus went to the bed to collect Ayla and started for the door. Daryl hastened to follow but said nothing until they were halfway to the house and he realised where they were going. Then he just asked, “When did this happen?”

Jesus did not look back. He replied, “She refused to go to sleep the first night I came back. Sasha brought her up and we’ve been roommates ever since. Can’t blame them for wanting the space back, it was getting rather cramped.”

“You got her a bed in there?” Daryl asked.

Jesus smiled to himself as he opened the front door and led the way in. He replied as they climbed the stairs, “Unfortunately, no. But she hasn’t wet the bed yet and she doesn’t take up too much room.”

“Hn,” Daryl grunted. 

Jesus felt a momentary rush of nerves when they finally got to the room. Daryl, oblivious, walked past and said, “Let’s get her down then. If she wakes up now, she ain’t gonna want to go back.”

“I suppose not,” said Jesus. He went to the bed, laid Ayla out in the middle of it and wrapped the sheet around her in a cocoon. She barely stirred. He smiled to himself. They had come a long way in a few days. Then he felt Daryl’s gaze on him and said without turning, “I’m trying to give her the idea that someone’s next to her. She’ll wake if she notices she’s alone.”

A soft "okay"' and a breath later and Daryl was at his back. Jesus straightened but did not turn around. Daryl was being rather quiet but Jesus could almost hear him deliberating. He would let him make the first move though, because he knew that he had to. And then there was a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into it, let Daryl turn him around, and lifted his head to look him in the eyes, daring the other man to move.

Daryl dropped his gaze, suddenly shy again. Jesus let a smirk form but did not move. Daryl gave a huff, halfway between a laugh and a grunt, and closed the distance between them. He pressed his mouth to Jesus’ with confidence, grasping hold of the other man’s arms to keep him close. Jesus exhaled, releasing a breath he had not realised he had held, and quickly deepened the kiss. They had been apart for longer than they had been officially together and both were feeling it.

Jesus slipped his arms out of Daryl’s grasp and wound them around the back of his head, stepping into the other man until they were pressed together. Daryl got the hint and wrapped his hands around Jesus’ back. It did not feel close enough, not nearly. At the first brush of his tongue against Daryl’s, the other man gave a grunt that turned into a moan and nearly lifted Jesus off his feet in response. Daryl was aggressive when things got passionate, in ways that made Jesus all the hotter for him. And yet they could not do anything, not with Ayla feet away from them, no matter how increasingly difficult it was for Jesus to care.

Daryl’s hair was dry but dirty. Jesus could feel bits of dirt and twigs among the strands, taste the sweat on the other man’s skin, smell the ever-present scent of dried blood that they all carried, and cigarettes that Daryl chain-smoked, and yet it did not deter him. This was altogether Daryl, and Jesus almost wished he could wear it wherever he went. The thought sent a thrill up his spine and set his heart racing. He did not do this, he was not like this.

There was a whimper, low but clear and Jesus used the excuse to step away from the kiss to look down at Ayla on the bed. He was panting, they both were, and his skin felt scorched, the room too stuffy, his clothes to tight. Ayla's face was scrunched up as if she was about to cry, the distress of a bad dream or loneliness threatening to wake her. He turned away from Daryl completely and climbed onto the bed to soothe her and he determinedly ignored Daryl’s gaze, until the other man asked, “She alright?”

“Yeah, probably noticed that she was alone. The blanket trick doesn’t always work,” said Jesus, gently massaging the girl's back through the sheets.

Daryl went to a chair near the bed and sank heavily into it. Jesus watched him in his peripheral vision. Daryl swept his hand over his face, then shifted to dip his hands into his pockets searching for something. Jesus said, “You can’t smoke in here with her.”

“Wasn’t going to,” said Daryl. Then he pulled out a small pink bear.

Jesus bit back a laugh and at Daryl’s raised eyebrow, said, “She’s been asking for hours what you brought her.”

“Need to get it cleaned up first,” said Daryl, simply. “Don’t want to get her sick.”

Jesus nodded at this. “Yeah, she was probably born in this world like Judith, so she wasn’t vaccinated, but Dr Carson wants to get her started on them while he can.” When Daryl said nothing to this but kept looking at him, Jesus finally turned and asked, “What?”

Daryl smiled at him, a small, sweet one that made him look so much younger than he was, and said, “You’re way ahead of me on a lot of this. I wasn’t even thinking of that. I thought…I thought I could because of Judith.” He dropped his gaze to the bear in his hands, and continued, “Man, what the hell was I thinking?”

Jesus looked down at the child on the bed, features smoothed out again as she dreamed, and wondered what Daryl would think of his thoughts. All Jesus thought about most days was running as far as he could from this situation and yet he could not find the will to do it. He said, “Believe me when I tell you, Rick probably had no idea what he was doing when Carl was born either. You can only be prepared so much for anything, and then life does what it wants. But she’s alive and here with us and she likes and respects you way more than she does anyone else. I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong so far.” He looked up to meet Daryl’s gaze. “And you’re not doing this alone.”

They stared at each other for a few beats in absolute silence, then, cheeks reddening, Daryl said, “Come here.”

Jesus made a show of protest, because he thought that someone had to think of the child. “She’s going to fuss once she realises I’m not with her, and you cannot get into bed like that. It’s fine for me, but you need to bathe for her.”

Daryl lifted an eyebrow, then got up and asked, “Where’s the bath?”

“Just down the hall…I’ll uh, I’ll show you,” said Jesus. He went to the closet for another blanket and packed it up behind Ayla.

"What about 'not leaving Ayla'?" asked Daryl.

"A few minutes wouldn't hurt," said Jesus, voice low and husky. 

It had the desired effect, Daryl swallowed a gulp of air and remained awkwardly beside the bed, waiting for him. Jesus smiled and said, “Follow me, Mr Dixon.”

As luck would have it, the bathroom had been occupied, so Daryl had to content himself with some vigorous scrubbing with a wet cloth and a hastily heated bucket of water. Jesus thought that he had done a very good job, even with the distraction of the other man stealing kisses whenever he got too close to his face. Even better, they managed it without waking Ayla, for they had retreated to the room with the bucket just in case. It must have been nearly dawn when they finally went to bed, with Ayla between them, worn out but happy. So of course it was not meant to last.

Jesus had just began to wake to the sound of Daryl and Ayla whispering together, the little girl’s giggles just this side of worryingly innocent, when he heard the shouts. He shot upright in the bed, eyes wide to meet Daryl’s gaze, and then they heard them again. The Saviours had come.

“Shit!” Jesus snapped as he scrambled off the bed, searching for his shirt.

Daryl stood up with Ayla in his arms, his own shirt unbuttoned and swinging loose. He had been quick to replace his soiled one even though Jesus took great pains to suppress his own curiosity about the scars on the other man’s back. Daryl asked, “Where do we go? Maggie…Sasha, Enid…”

“They’re fine. We need to get you two out of sight. Not in Gregory’s room again though, because he might lead them there. Come on,” said Jesus.

He had found his shirt and slipped his feet into his boots, then realised that his hair was mussed and falling all over the place. He went to the dresser, snatched up one of Ayla’s hair ties and fixed his hair into a neat knot at the back of his head. When he turned to Daryl, it was to find that the other man had not moved but was staring rather intently at him. Jesus rolled his eyes and said, “Not the time, nowhere near the time. Come on.”

The hallway was abuzz with activity as the night time residents of Barrington scampered to get out of the Saviours’ sight. Jesus led Daryl and Ayla up to the attic to the only place he could think would be marginally safe in a time like this, an abandoned broken wardrobe that had been put up many years ago. Daryl took one look around and then snatched the bandanna from Jesus’ pocket and tied it around Ayla’s face.

She protested, not at all a fan of the idea, but warmed considerably when Daryl used his own dirty cloth to the do the same to himself. Jesus gave him a nod of approval at the handiwork, and then helped them into the wardrobe as carefully as he could. It was imperative that the space looked untouched if the Saviours decided to check.   
Just as Jesus was about to close the door though, a little voice called, “Paul!”

Jesus turned back to find that Ayla had presented her forehead for a kiss. He had begun to punctuate their separations with one and he was surprised that she remembered. He leant in, gathered her little face in his hands and pressed a firm, soft kiss just under her hairline. And, just to be fair, did the same to Daryl, though the other man playfully shoved him and grumbled, “Don’t take too long.”

Jesus nodded and closed the door. Showtime.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let the record state that Jesus did not agree with the idea of taking young children out of stable, protected environments in this next world unless it was absolutely necessary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, still going. Not very proud of this chapter and how it turned out but maybe I need a few second opinions? ;)

Let the record state that Jesus did not agree with the idea of taking young children out of stable, protected environments in this next world unless it was absolutely necessary. Jesus was sure that Daryl knew this, especially after everything he said Rick’s group had gone through trying to protect Carl and Judith. But it was clear that when it came to Carol, Daryl was willing to throw all caution and common sense to the wind.

Jesus was not jealous, Carol was with King Ezekiel now, or Morgan, whichever, and Daryl had made it clear that he only wanted him, and yet sometimes he wondered. Times like now, for instance, when they were quickly but carefully making their way through the woods to the Kingdom with Ayla in a sling across Daryl’s chest. Worse, it was a hot, dry day, had been like this for weeks now, so that they had already used up half a bottle of water each, after less than an hour of walking. Jesus had not been quietly fuming since they left the Hilltop on this Bad Idea, but it was a close thing.

“Think we should give her more water?” asked Daryl, peering down at Ayla in his pouch. 

Jesus could not help but think of a kangaroo and its joey, and bit back a smile, annoyed though he was. Ayla had fallen asleep shortly after breakfast, a little too quickly and deeply for Jesus’ liking—Maggie had winked at him—and it had been hours since. Still, a quiet child was less likely to draw trouble so he replied, “Not yet. She’s fine. We’ll wake her up when we get there. Only a little further.”

Daryl said nothing to this and they continued in silence. They were not having an argument, they would actually have to speak to each other about their disagreeing points of view for that to happen.

Where Jesus had kept his objections to this trip to himself, Maggie and Sasha had not. When Daryl announced the plan at dinner the evening before, both women had started in on him until he had growled something mean and ran out of the trailer leaving Jesus to face their wrath. Jesus had allowed it to go on for less than five minutes, and then calmly informed them that while he was on their side, he could not go against Daryl’s decision. After all, they did not really have a legitimate excuse as to why Daryl should not take Ayla to the Kingdom when he and Tara had travelled with her for more than a week on their way to the Hilltop. And hadn’t they told the story of surviving weeks on the road with baby Judith?

Jesus could see that both wanted to insist on their points, but they could not get past his, and so he bid them goodnight to find his partner. He found Daryl in his usual place, atop the perimeter wall looking out towards Alexandria. It was a sight that made Jesus’ heart seize for it reminded him of another slowly building problem, and an ironic one at that. While Jesus was still struggling with his instinct to flee the ties that were increasingly binding him to Daryl, Daryl had been developing a terrible longing for the home and family he had left behind.

The war was far from over, one could barely say that it had even started, but Daryl was growing restless the longer he was forced to stay away from Alexandria. He never said it outright, but Jesus could see the longing on Daryl’s face each time he went to or returned from Alexandria, or saw the others off after a visit. He missed his people, even with Maggie and Sasha at the Hilltop, and Abraham and Glenn buried in the garden, and the trips back and forth did not count. But most of all, Daryl missed Rick and well, who was Jesus to get in the way of that? Hell, he did think it would be nice for Ayla to meet another girl about her age, it was just…what if they did not want to come back?

There was no question of Jesus’ leaving the Hilltop to follow Daryl home, no matter how much he wanted to. The Hilltop needed Jesus, even with war training, even with Maggie taking over Gregory’s role. It was just that, Jesus needed Daryl now, grounding him, anchoring him in place. Being able to wake up beside Daryl, go home to him, wait for him, Jesus had never wanted that before and now he craved it like a drug. And if Daryl was an anchor, Ayla was a shoot, a new beginning.

Since they had started walking, Daryl had kept one hand firmly against Ayla’s back. Maggie had often joked that some days she forgot that he wasn’t pregnant too, for the way he carried. But Jesus thought that he understood where Daryl’s mind was. For all that the time he and Daryl had been taking care of Ayla was brief, Jesus had learned a myriad of quirks and traits that he knew he would miss.

Ayla was a curious, intelligent child who liked to sleep sprawled across Daryl’s chest with her head hanging down regardless of where they had put her to bed the night before. She liked her porridge cold so she could eat the mushy lumps, and her juice just above room temperature as if she had plucked the fruit from the tree. She had seen Jesus practicing his morning workout kata and then spent the rest of the day doing a passable imitation. Somehow, she now woke up just in time to watch him ever since. Once Daryl was around or working on something, she insisted on getting right up under his arm so that he had to manoeuvre around her and started showing her how. Then the other day, when Jesus had asked Sasha to show him how to comb Ayla’s hair, she had insisted on helping him style his. To lose her now would be too cruel, and losing Daryl, well, that was something that he could not begin to contemplate.

Movement up ahead and both men stopped. Jesus moved ahead of Daryl and Ayla, palmed a knife and waited. A moment later, Morgan walked out of the treeline with a smile and asked, “Jesus? Daryl? Is that—how wonderful it is to see you again.”

They both relaxed, and Daryl stepped around Jesus to accept Morgan’s hearty greeting hug, complete with grins and friendly pats on the back. That was when the man noticed the sling and asked, “Hey, what’s this now?”

He was still smiling, so Jesus guessed that Ayla was no longer the secret in the family he thought she was. Rick Grimes had a big mouth, as Michonne attested, so Jesus was not exactly surprised but this was their news to share.

Daryl, untroubled, turned and adjusted the sling a little for Morgan to get a look inside at Ayla. The other man’s smile became a full grin and he clapped Daryl on the shoulder and said, “She looks very plump and healthy. You’ve done a good job.”

“Wasn’t all me,” said Daryl, cheeks red as he glanced over at Jesus.

Morgan followed his gaze, laughed and said, “Yes, yes, of course. Hello again, Mr Rovia.”

Jesus gave Morgan a brief nod and asked, “You’re on patrol duty now?”

“Oh, no, was just taking a walk. Went to check on Carol. She’s expecting you, of course,” said Morgan. He glanced at the sling, “And the little one.”

Daryl moved to go, saying as he went, “Well, we better get going.”

Jesus imagined replying that on second thought, he had something to tell King Ezekiel, how about you and Ayla have this evening without me? Then Daryl stopped and turned back to him, and he said, “Yeah, we should.”

Morgan glanced between them and said, “Maybe I’ll see you all later. You should come by if it’s not too late.”'

“Sure,” said Jesus before Daryl could refuse. It was one thing to suffer a few hours in the company of someone you knew did not like you and had the means to kill you if she so desired, it was another thing to spend the night. Jesus was dragging Daryl out of that house even if he had to hit him over the head.

The path to Carol’s house was not too long after that. Her little house on the outskirts of the Kingdom was nondescript from the exterior, comfortable and quiet in the interior. Jesus often wondered what she was like before all this, not quite sure what to make of the woman sometimes, but Daryl had not offered much. Not that Jesus could not figure it out given time and proximity that he did not want, he just preferred that Daryl tell him.

And then they were at the door, but before either man could knock, Carol opened it and said, “Get in.”

Daryl pulled her into a hug first, backing them into the room. Jesus followed and shut the door, watching. Morgan had not been lying when he said that Carol had been waiting. There was a warm plate of cookies and a steaming pot of tea and the coffee table had been set for three. The highchair was obviously for Ayla but if Carol thought the little girl was getting into it when Daryl’s lap was right there, she had another thing coming.

“It’s good to see you,” grunted out Daryl when he finally released Carol.

She gave him a small, sweet smile and then looked down to the sling and asked, “Is this her?”

Daryl reached up to undo the sling. Jesus moved to help but Carol was closer and together they freed Ayla and took her over to the couch. She woke halfway there, wrapped her arms around Daryl’s neck and stared at Carol. Carol smiled at the girl and was met with Ayla’s trademark impassive stare. To Daryl, Carol said, “I see she takes after you.”

Daryl blushed, shook his head and said, “Nah, Paul more like, when he’s not trying to be cute.”

At this Carol finally seemed to notice him. She looked up at Jesus, flashed him a small smile that did not quite reach her eyes, and asked Daryl, “He’s been helping out?”

Daryl’s face reddened immediately, the blush extending all the way down his arms. Jesus tilted his head to get a better look at him, and Daryl coughed, cleared his throat and said, “Um, yeah. We…we’ve been taking care of her together. We live together now. We—”

“We’re partners now is what he’s trying to say,” said Jesus, deciding to put Daryl out of his misery.

Carol lifted an eyebrow, eyes darting between Daryl and Jesus. Daryl’s face went even redder, and he dropped his gaze to Ayla in his arms. The little girl lifted her free hand up to pat his chin and play with the scruff there. Daryl playfully bit her fingers. Jesus met Carol’s gaze and asked, “Do I pass muster?”

Carol’s eyebrow descended as she replied, “Didn’t see that one coming.” Jesus smiled at her, she returned it, a genuine one this time, and she asked, “When did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago,” said Daryl, still not looking at her. “Around uh, the time I came back with Bruiser here. But uh, listen, what’s this about you and King Ezekiel and Morgan?”

Carol stood up to get the tea things, laughing, and said, “Oh no, we’re talking about you and Jesus here. You three came together as a family to tell me something. The last time I saw you…” She stopped, her gaze going distant and Daryl’s dropped a little too.

“That was Paul too,” said Daryl.

Carol looked over at Jesus again and asked, “Trying to live up to the name?”

“Daryl is being generous I could only help him so far,” said Jesus with a shrug. “He’s stronger than he thinks he is, braver, better. I am just grateful that he has given me this chance to know him.”

Daryl’s face was definitely red now, and he grunted, “Knock it off. I’m right here.”

Carol snorted, reached over to pinch his cheeks and said, “Aw, Pookie, are we embarrassing you?”

He pulled his head away, growling, “Leave me alone, woman.”

Her laugh this time was hearty.

Ayla said, “Daryl, I want cake.”

At that, Jesus finally walked away from the door to join them. Carol began to lay out the little sandwiches and cakes and said to Daryl, “When I last saw you, this was the furthest thing from your mind. I never thought…this is good. Very good. I’m happy for you both.”

She sounded sincere. Jesus said, “Thank you. It’s been a long journey for all of us.”

“It ain't over yet,” said Daryl. “I didn’t know when we would get the chance, so I wanted you to know.”

And with those words, Jesus felt awful. Daryl and Carol had been friends for far longer than he knew either of them. They had been through hell together, some of which they refused to share and couldn’t because no one else would probably understand. What right did he have to be upset about that? All Daryl wanted was to let his friend know that he was fine and that things were going well for him when all else was shit. After all, just the other day, he and Ayla had been hiding in a dusty old wardrobe while Negan's men ripped through their home and Jesus tried to derail Gregory's plans to expose them.

Then Carol said with a crooked smile, “Honestly, bout time you got laid. I was beginning to worry about all that pent-up energy.”

Daryl choked on air.

It took most of the afternoon, but Jesus decided that he might have gotten the wrong impression of Carol. At first she had appeared to be indifferent, if suspicious of his motives. Then, once it was discovered that they knew each other, she had become a reluctant ally, if again, wary of his interactions with Daryl. And now? Well, she still did not appear to like Jesus very much but that was no doubt mired in her concern for Daryl and since he had decided he liked the younger man enough to have a relationship with him, she was willing to give him a chance.

He also loved that she loved dirty jokes and told them often, even as Daryl protested for Ayla’s—his, really—sake. Daryl always got a delightful shade of red and would adorably try to hide his blush, one time lifting Ayla in front of his face like a miniature shield. Alas, Jesus would have found them funnier if only he and Daryl had gotten around to any of the things she ribbed him about.

They did not discuss the war or Carol's possible role in it. Rick was still holding out hope that Carol's concern for their people would win out in the end, but Jesus was not so enthusiastic.

They had made plans to spend the night at the Kingdom and Carol had room, but Jesus had already agreed that they would check with Morgan, so as the sky started to darken, they made their goodbyes. Jesus did not think he imagined the look of relief that crossed Carol’s face as they packed up to go. She accepted Daryl’s and Ayla’s parting hugs with a small, bittersweet smile, and returned Jesus’ nod and walked them to the door. Jesus wondered briefly again what had happened to bring her to this point, to have her and Daryl so close and yet so far, and then they were walking along the road to the Kingdom, Ayla on Daryl’s hip and asking questions as they went.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at a house they were passing.

“Mail box,” said Daryl, barely glancing over.

Ayla swivelled around to the other side of the street, “What’s that?”

“Car.”

“What’s that?”

“Walker.”'

“What?” Jesus asked. He followed their gaze to see a badly decomposed perambulating corpse heading towards them. Daryl stepped out of the way and Jesus swept past, stabbed it in the head and kept going.

“Paul hit it in the head,” said Ayla.

“Yup,” said Daryl.

So they continued until they arrived at the gates of the Kingdom and were met by a mounted guard. “Hey, Daryl, Jesus. Oh, who’s the kid?”

“Bruiser,” said Daryl before Jesus could respond.

Ayla giggled as if she understood the joke and the guard smiled and said, “Hi there. Go on in, His Majesty should be preparing for dinner.”

His Majesty was preparing for dinner, but not to have it with them. The tiger was thankfully nowhere in sight. The king greeted them in his usual bombastic manner, “Ah, Jesus, and Sir Dixon. A pleasure to see you again. And who is this fair maiden?”

“Ayla!” she yelled, introducing herself.

The self-proclaimed king lifted an eyebrow but his Fool said, “Yeah shortie, introduce yourself.” He gave her a wide smile, and she beamed back. 

King Ezekiel said, “I must make my apologies. We were expecting you, but I must take my leave for the evening. I leave you in the care of your friend, Mr Morgan Jones, and hope to see you again in the morning before you must depart.”

He barely waited for their response before he left, and Morgan, who had just stepped into the school cafeteria, chuckled and said, “Sorry about that. He has a hot date.”

Daryl frowned at that, and said, “She’s a grown woman, can take care of herself.”

Morgan met Jesus’ gaze and said, “Yes, well…he’s made arrangements for your rest tonight. Why don’t we have some dinner?”

All too soon it was bedtime and they learned that separate rooms had been prepared for them. Jesus contemplated letting Daryl stammer through an excuse as to why they needed just the one, and then said, “We just need the one.”

Morgan did not question it, and so they were led to the guest room that, according to him, had once been Carol’s. A smaller cot was procured for Ayla, and after the excitement of the day she was soon out cold and snoring lightly. And then it was just Daryl and Jesus alone in the lamp-lit bedroom. 

Jesus looked down at the full-sized bed and said, “Wanna fool around?”

Daryl looked at him strangely, then grunted, “Go to bed.”

Jesus smirked at him and said, “Only if you’re coming with me.” Daryl glanced at Ayla on her cot. Jesus said, “She’s not going to wake up before sunrise after today.”

Daryl remained where he was for a beat, then walked over and sat down on the bed and took off his boots. He had his back to Jesus, but there was a very visible red flush along the back of his neck and arms. Jesus crawled onto the bed behind him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“What…what are you doing?” asked Daryl. It was more of a growl really, low and rough as if he was having trouble speaking.

Jesus said nothing, pressed another kiss to the juncture between Daryl’s neck and shoulder and smiled when he flinched.

Again, Daryl protested. “We…we can’t.”

“We won’t,” said Jesus, wrapping his hands around Daryl’s torso. “I told you before, we’ll go at your pace.”

Daryl started shaking his head but said nothing. Jesus exhaled, then released his hold on Daryl and sat to remove his own boots. It was their night-time ritual. They would go to bed, sometimes at separate times, sometimes together, someone would make a move, Daryl would protest on behalf of Ayla when things got too heavy and then they would go to sleep. Something had to give.

Daryl lay back on the bed. Jesus heard the springs groan, felt the shifting beneath them and asked before he could stop himself, “Have you changed your mind?”

“What?”

Jesus did not turn around, just stared out the window on his side and the darkened grounds, dotted here and there by low-burning torches. He took a breath and replied, “About this...us.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” asked Daryl, sitting up now. He could be quick to anger when the mood suited him, but Jesus suspected that Daryl had not quite forgiven him for talking so casually of running away when they first got together.

Jesus exhaled, turned and looking Daryl in the eyes, said, “You want to go back to Alexandria.”

Daryl dropped his gaze, looked up again and said, “I go all the time. It’s not safe but I have to.”

“No, I meant, you want to go back to Alexandria permanently. I can see it, no, look at me, I can see it,” Jesus insisted.

Daryl glanced back at Ayla and lowered his voice as he replied, “I haven’t changed my mind about anything, least of all this. What, you think I don’t want…you think…nah, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” asked Jesus, trying to ignore the slightly hurt expression on Daryl’s face. But he was hurt too and they needed to have this conversation. If he could not run out on Daryl, Daryl had absolutely no right to run out on him.

“I want this, with you. I don’t think I’ve ever…but Alexandria, Rick, Michonne, those guys, they’re my people too. I miss them. I miss them a lot, and going to them might mean having to give this up and I don’t want that,” said Daryl.

Jesus took a breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” That was frankly more than he had been expecting. But Daryl was not finished yet.

“And I want to…” He glanced down at the bed between them and continued, “I’m not confused. I know what I am, I’ve always known who I am even if I never said anything. I just couldn't be before and I was never going to be what they wanted me to be. But sometimes the things…it sticks in my head.”

Jesus nodded at this, exhaled, got up and walked over to Ayla’s cot.

“What are you doing?” asked Daryl, shifting round to face him.

Jesus did not reply but very gently lifted Ayla up and started for the door. Daryl stood up at that and asked, “Where are you going? It’s late out, she shouldn’t be out.”

“We’re not going far,” said Jesus, without stopping or looking back. He walked out before Daryl could ask again, heading straight for Morgan’s room.

The other man answered the door on the first knock and then lifted both eyebrows at the sight of Jesus and Ayla. Jesus replied before Morgan ask, “Can you watch her for a few hours?”

Morgan’s eyes went wide, and he glanced behind Jesus to Daryl who was no doubt standing in the doorway to their room. After a moment though, he said, “Sure. I haven’t watched a little one in years but I don’t think she should be too much trouble.”

“Thanks a million,” said Jesus, and he followed Morgan into his room and laid the little girl out on the couch, then bunched her sheets around her to keep her warm.

“She’s pretty worn out, so she shouldn’t wake before dawn but I may collect her before that. We promised Maggie we would be back at Hilltop as early as possible. I think she just meant Ayla though.”

“No problem, see you in the morning,” said Morgan, chuckling softly. 

Jesus smiled at him, then walked back to his and Daryl’s room. Daryl, having realised by now what was happening, began almost as soon as Jesus closed the door, “What if she wakes up in the night? She don’t know him.”

“Shut up,” said Jesus, then he grasped hold of the collar of Daryl’s flannel shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

Daryl was slow to respond, only pressing lightly back on Jesus’ mouth, hands still off to his sides. Jesus stepped into him, tilting his head and sucked Daryl’s lower lip into his mouth. It worked as he knew it would. Daryl wrapped his arms around Jesus’ back, slanting his mouth over the other man’s and letting the kiss deepen. Jesus smiled and slipped his hands up under Daryl’s shirt, but when his fingers brushed over the other man’s stomach, he pulled back. Jesus kept hold of Daryl, albeit loosely, and willed himself not to sigh as he asked, “What is it now?”

“We can’t…not like this. It’s not how…how I thought it would go,” said Daryl.

Jesus blinked at him, then because he could not help himself, asked, “You thought about this?”

Daryl looked at him. He rolled his eyes and tried again, “You know what I mean. But does it matter? We’re both here now. I told you before, all I need is you.”

Daryl shook his head once, twice and Jesus tried a different tack. He pressed a kiss to Daryl’s jaw and asked, “Do you trust me?”

There was silence and then Daryl nodded.

Jesus smiled and kissed the side of his neck and asked, “Do you want this?”

“What kind of fool question is that? I just said—” 

Jesus cut him off with a kiss, short and sweet, smiled when he tried to pull away and Daryl followed, and said, “Then let this happen.”

Daryl took a breath, exhaled low and nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

The last time Jesus had been stared at this much, he had been selling bullshit to two men he’d run into while out scoping supplies for the Hilltop. That had turned out to be a life-changing meeting for everyone involved, in more ways than one. Sometimes he could not quite believe that the least likely of guys, a motorcycle-riding redneck archer was now his boyfriend. And that meant that this guy, a Saviour no less, was shit out of luck.

Gregory was once again locked in his office with Simon, and Maggie, Sasha, Enid, Daryl and Ayla were all holed up together in a crawlspace in the garage. It was a hot, dark, tight fit, especially with Maggie’s pregnancy, but it was the best that could be done on short notice. The more worrying issue was Gregory anyway. 

Jesus’ admirer was still staring. Jesus wondered mildly if there was something on his face, or maybe his neck. Hours ago, Ayla’s head had rested there while he sang her to sleep. Her favourite lullaby was “Layla”, though he changed it to “Ayla” and slowed the pace considerably. His baby loved classic rock. Minutes ago, Jesus had been forced to rouse her from that sleep to hustle her into the garage. Her life, all of theirs, depended on Jesus playing it cool, acting as if nothing was wrong, and yet all he wanted to do was charge into that office and make sure that Gregory kept his damn mouth shut.

Earlier that week, after several of not noticing either Daryl or Ayla, Gregory had developed a problem with both. Ayla was too loud, she touched his things, she wandered in and out of his office like Maggie, as if she owned the place, and she had a tendency to grunt things at him. That last bit was Daryl’s fault and entirely too adorable for Jesus to try to stop. Daryl, on the other hand, smoked indoors (not true,) tracked dirt and blood in (partially true,) and looked at him funny (mostly in irritation, so very true.) Gregory was too scared of Daryl to ever say it to his face, so Jesus had to bear the brunt of it. Not that Jesus was going to repeat any of this to Daryl, even to blow off steam, because it would only lead to trouble. And after days of being ignored by Jesus, Gregory now had an opportunity to flex his muscle. 

“Hey, you’re uh…you’re the one they call Jesus, right?” asked his admirer.

Jesus glanced over at the man. In another life, this was where he would either respond with a smirk or even “I make no promises about your soul, but I could be.” In this one, he nodded and returned his attention to the door. Obviously, this was not a deterrent.

“So uh, looks like you’re Gregory’s second-in-command. He always looks to you when we come in,” said the guy, leaning as casually as he could manage against a table. 

Again, Jesus glanced at him, then away. This was not the time nor the place and yet this guy…he was clearly not getting the hint. He tried again, “You could do better with us.”

Jesus turned to the guy this time and stared at him. The guy stared back, and Jesus watched a range of emotions cross his face, first confidence, then uncertainty, confusion and finally wariness. But before it could become anything else, the door to Gregory’s office opened and he and Simon marched out. Simon had his hand around Gregory’s shoulder and was saying, “…see, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jesus took a breath, but Simon merely said, “So, same time next week. And remember, as long as we’re good, we’re good.”

Jesus exhaled and started to worry all over again. He did not want to deal with this. He needed to get his family out of that crawlspace. Still, he held his tongue as Simon led the other Saviours off on their raid of the Hilltop. His admirer hung back, but Jesus ignored him to address Gregory, “Everything alright?”

Gregory smiled, stuck one hand into his pocket and said, “Yes, yes, just fine. Peachy. Listen, Jesus, I’m going to take Simon around the place. Why don’t you sit this one out?”  
Jesus looked Gregory directly in the eyes, but the other man looked away and stepped around him. He was walking so fast to catch up with Simon, he nearly tripped over his own feet. It was more than a little unnerving. Jesus’ admirer piped up, “So I guess it’s just us.”

Jesus gave the man the briefest of glances, then followed Gregory out of the house. He had no doubt that the man was going to lead the Saviours directly to the garage where the Alexandrians—Jesus’ family—were hidden. And sure enough, when he stepped through the front door it was to find the man making a beeline for the garage with Simon at his side.

For a moment, standing there, Jesus had a flash of another life. In that one he was just another carefree thirty-something gay man living in DC, maybe working at a bar, maybe in a band, making music, travelling, never settling in one place. One day he might have made his way to Georgia for a gig. It would not have been the trendiest place, but a gig would mean money for living expenses and who knew, maybe their big break would happen that night. And then, in the middle of a set he would look out into the crowd and meet the gaze of a rough-looking but secretly sweet and gentle redneck biker. Nothing would be the same after that.

The life he had lived before was not bad. He had worked as a bartender sometimes and karate instructor at others. He had travelled with friends as part of a band. He had drifted in and out of clubs. He had met hundreds of people and only one other had managed to get to him the way that Daryl had. He was not going to let go of that. 

Then his admirer said, “Hey man, I’m trying to talk to you. What’s with the cold shoulder?”

This guy was trying to get himself hurt. A blunt approach then. Jesus looked over at the guy and said, “What, in anything that’s been going on so far, makes you think I would want to be your friend?”

A flash of surprise, hurt and then anger and the guy was on him, with a fistful of Jesus’ shirt in one hand as he backed him into a corner of the front porch and growled, “What’s your problem man, I’m just trying to be nice. We could make this ugly for you.”

Jesus considered and discarded the idea of putting this guy on his ass, but there was no way he was going to get beat up. In a conciliatory tone, he said, “Yes, you all could do that, I am well aware. But why should we let this get that way?”

The guy glared at him for a few beats before he eventually smiled and said, “Yeah, let’s not.” He released Jesus’ collar, stepped back and said, “So, I think we could be good friends.”

“Yes,” said Jesus, and he moved to walk around the guy.

The guy stepped into his path again and said, “Hey, you heard that Gregory guy, they don’t need you. We can chat while they work, yeah?”

Jesus looked at the guy again. This was moving beyond annoying and starting to head down a path he definitely did not like. Some people found themselves trapped by this world and others were set free. Jesus had always been free, could not have lived any other way. This guy? He was beginning to sound like the type that would have bullied people who lived the kind of life he could only dream of. 

Jesus leaned against a column, folded his arms over his chest and said, “What shall we talk about?”

The guy looked at him a little suspiciously, and said, “So uh, this—”

Suddenly, there were shouts from the garage. Jesus’ heart seized. He swung round to look, as did his admirer, waiting. If Simon came marching out of there with either Daryl or Ayla, this guy was dead and anyone who got in Jesus’ way. If he was committing to this family, he was not going to let anyone take them away from him, least of Negan. Sure, Rick’s group were savages when need be, but Jesus’ hands were hardly clean.

And then the doors opened and Simon drove out in an antique roadster their blacksmith, Earl, and Daryl, had recently got working. It was not the nightmare he was expecting, but it was still bad. Daryl had sacrificed hours of time with Jesus and Ayla to work on that car. If he didn’t break Gregory’s jaw when he got out of the garage, Jesus was going to be shocked.

“Whoa, is that what I think it is?” asked Jesus’ admirer, heading down the stairs to get a closer look.

Jesus had already lost interest in him and did not reply. The crisis was not wholly averted but that was because the Saviours had caught a better prize.

Daryl did not break Gregory’s jaw but Maggie nearly did. This was the second time the snivelling coward had tried to give them up and failed and she had had enough of it. Then Daryl had handed a crying Ayla off to Jesus, grabbed Gregory by the collar and said, “We heard you trying to sell us out, you prick. You think that was going to end well for you?”  
Gregory lifted his chin, grabbed at Daryl’s hands and said, “Get your hands off me. Jesus, tell this brute to let me go or there will be consequences.”

Daryl gave Gregory a strong shake, shook his own head and said, “Nah, don’t talk to him. He can’t help you right now. You’re going to get what’s coming to you one day, and you better pray it’s not because of something you did to us.”

Gregory tried to glare but Daryl was menacing on a normal day, so after a while he put his hands up instead and said, “Yes, yes, won’t happen again.”

Daryl grunted, shoved him away and turning to Jesus said, “We should give her bath. She’s hot and wasn’t doing too well in the dark.”

Jesus, who had been trying to get Ayla to calm down to no avail, wanted to ask how Daryl had fared. There was no doubt he had been reliving his experiences in the Sanctuary. Still, there was no point bringing it up out here. He nodded and led the way back into the house, softly singing “Layla” to Ayla as they went.

Ayla did calm down after her bath, and thus refreshed and re-energised, she proceeded to run riot through their room with a toy motorcycle Daryl had somehow procured at the Kingdom. Jesus and Daryl sat watching her play a bit and then Jesus said, “Maybe you should take a shower too.”

Daryl stopped tapping his fingers against his leg, looked over at Jesus and asked, “You trying to say I stink?”

There was some fire behind those stormy blue eyes that Jesus had no intention of stoking either way, so he smiled and said, “I know telling you these things is like talking to a wall, so the others don’t bother, but think of poor Ayla.”

“Ayla doesn’t think I stink,” said Daryl, smiling at her. 

She was riding the motorcycle along the windowsill. She had grown at a frankly alarming rate in the past few weeks, so much so that Jesus was beginning to doubt his earlier assessment of her age. At Daryl’s mention of her name, she stopped to look at them, grabbed her nose and said, “You need a bath. Ewww!”

Daryl’s scowl was deep and adorable and Jesus could not contain his laugh. Daryl stuck out his tongue at Ayla, who returned it, then turned to Jesus and said, “Shut up. It’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is,” said Jesus, still laughing. 

Daryl scoffed. “You’re turning her against me.”

“Unlikely. You’ve become her entire world,” said Jesus, seriously.

Daryl held his gaze for a beat at that, sat back in his seat and said, “Couldn’t do it without you.”

Jesus smiled at him and asked, “How are you feeling right now?”

Daryl closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled heavily. “Like shit. I hate being in small, dark spaces now. Having Ayla there earlier, Maggie, Sasha, Enid…we were our own little support group. They messed me up worse than I was before, them bastards.”

Jesus nodded and stood. Daryl looked up at him, brow furrowed. Jesus said, “You really need a bath.”

He met Daryl’s gaze and watched the emotions change across the other man’s face. Confusion turned to suspicion, then wariness and finally settled on want. Jesus smiled at him and turning to Ayla, said, “If I tell you not to leave this room, will you listen?”

Ayla paused in her game, looked up at him and said, “No.”

Jesus laughed. Daryl said, “Take her to Maggie. I’m going for a bath.” He stood up, got a towel and some toiletries from their dresser and headed out.

Jesus watched him go and weighed his options. There was only one he wanted to consider. He got up, swept Ayla up in his arms in the middle of her games, much to her amusement, and carried out of the house to Maggie. She was rather surprised to see them, and gave Jesus’ halfway explanation a side-eye, but otherwise did not protest to relieve him of the child and let him go on his way. He practically ran all the way back to Barrington.

Daryl was showering when Jesus stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Jesus watched him first. Daryl never lingered in the bath, something that had seemed odd at first until Jesus remembered that Rick’s people had spent the last two years the hard way. He watched a blob of soap bubbles slip from Daryl’s hair and trail a path down between his shoulder blades, over the slight curve of his ass, where the shifting of his hands sent it over to his left leg, along his inner thigh, knee, ankle to the floor. Jesus undressed and stepped into the shower stall.

That night in the Kingdom, days ago, after Daryl had nodded, Jesus had led him back to the bed and made good on every promise he had made to whatever deity would let him have this man. Daryl had been shy at first, not wanting to remove his shirt or let his hands wander too far. No matter how willing he was, somewhere in the back of Daryl’s mind was all the reasons he should not, holding on tight. A little encouragement was needed, so Jesus distracted him with a searing kiss, then guided one of the other man’s hands from the loose grip on his waist down into the front of his pants. It was all over after that.

The next morning had come entirely too quickly, and the trek home had been torturous with both delightfully sore while Ayla was wide awake and full of energy. But they had walked closer together, and Jesus had caught Daryl just staring at him more than once, his gaze only slightly awed. Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice when they finally got back to Hilltop, but Jesus knew that was going to be short-lived. Especially when Jesus talked Ayla into agreeing to a sleepover with the women. Maggie and Sasha had both flashed him suspicious and then smug looks. He studiously ignored him, then led Daryl back to their room and basically ravaged him.

Daryl was a passionate lover, to the extent that there were quite a few love bites along Jesus’ neck, arms and chest just over his heart. But he was also fairly new to this, which was more than a bit of a shock to Jesus, and so the younger man had taken the lead. Still, Jesus could not say that he was unhappy with any of it. 

Daryl did not turn around when Jesus stepped into the shower behind him, but he did say, “I said I was taking a bath. I’m a grown man, I don’t need no help.”

Jesus pressed a kiss to Daryl’s left shoulder blade and whispered, “I’m not here to help.” He slipped his arms around Daryl’s waist and said. “In fact, I’m just going to get in your way.”

Daryl turned to look over his shoulder at him, and he lifted his head to smile.

An hour later they were a mess of tangled limbs and sheets and wild hair on their bed. Daryl was tracing idle patterns along Jesus’ arm, while Jesus laid with his head against Daryl’s chest to listen his heartbeat. Every shift made Daryl’s heart race. Jesus smiled and said, “Relax, I’m not going to try anything. We have to go get Ayla, and help with the clean-up.”

Daryl snorted and said, “Maybe you could have done all of that while I was showering.”

“Nope,” said Jesus without hesitation. He pressed a kiss to Daryl’s chest, just over his heart and looked up at him.

Daryl met his gaze and said, “I want to go back to Alexandria.”

Jesus froze. It had come out of nowhere, the last thing he expected Daryl to say, and especially in that moment. Daryl’s gaze was steady but the longer Jesus kept silent, it dropped a little and he said, “Not permanently, but I—”

Jesus sat up away from him and said, “You’re not taking Ayla with you.”

“What?” said Daryl, sitting up as well.

Jesus got off the bed and went for the closet in search of clothing. He could not turn to look at Daryl. Not then. “It’s not safe for you in Alexandria, not now. Not until this is over. You know that. Taking Ayla there…what if you get caught? What do you think they’re going to do to her, or anyone they find with you? Do you think Negan’s not going to take her too? Use her against you?”

“It’s only for a short visit. We’re not staying there. I want her to meet them,” said Daryl.

“Then they can come here,” said Jesus, pulling on a pair of slacks. “I’m sure the trip will do some of them really good. It might even be safer for Judith here than there with Negan barging in every few days.”

“Hey,” said Daryl.

Jesus ignored him, pulled out a shirt, put that on and then went in search of his boots. He was not having this conversation. 

“Hey,” said Daryl, rising off the bed now. 

Jesus stopped but did not turn to look at him. “What?”

“You’re asking me ‘what’? What the hell is this?”

Jesus looked back at Daryl, forced himself to ignore his partner’s nakedness, and how quickly he had become comfortable enough to strut around bare when they were alone. He took a breath and said, “You want to leave here, permanently. Don’t deny it. I can tell, anyone with eyes can tell. I’ve been trying to make my peace with that but I can’t, and especially not if you’re going to take Ayla too.”

Daryl started shaking his head. “Nah, nah, don’t do that. Don’t say that. I ain’t said nothing about staying there. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

Jesus turned now to face Daryl fully and said, “You spend hours just staring in Alexandria’s direction whenever you’re on the wall. You go there every time you’re out on a run, even if you’re not supposed to head in that direction. You want to go home Daryl, and if you take Ayla, what reason do you have for coming back here?”

Daryl’s face and ears were bright red in his fury. He charged over to Jesus, puffed up so that he loomed over him, and snarled, “You trying to say that I don’t care about you? You don’t trust me? Is that what this is? Or is this the excuse you’ve been waiting on to leave? Is that what this is?”

Jesus was not going to back down. This was not about him. This was Daryl’s doing. He was committed to this relationship, and Ayla. He asked, “Can you honestly say that if Negan were gone, you would want to stay here?”

Daryl glared down at him, fury etched into every inch of his features, his postures, and the breath he drew. Jesus was not intimidated in the least. He knew he was right. He had seen the signs and worried over them. He thought they had settled the matter after the Kingdom but clearly they hadn’t. Then Daryl said, “You’re here, ain’t you? They’re my family but you’re my family too. And you don’t trust me. Or this is the excuse to walk that you’ve been waiting for? Well I ain’t going to give it to you. You want to walk, do it. Don’t waste my time with this bullshit.”

He pointed to the door to their room. Jesus folded his arms and did not move. Daryl watched him, then stepped around Jesus to find his own clothes. “Fine,” said Daryl as he went, “If you won’t, I will. Hope that makes you happy.”

Jesus felt his heart sink. This was not what he wanted. He turned to follow Daryl, who had already pulled on his pants, and said, “I don’t want anyone to leave. I don’t want this to end. I want you to talk to me. Admit it, Daryl, you want to go back to Alexandria. I understand that, I get it, it’s home and Rick and the others are there. But we’ve all been telling you that you’re not safe there and I know you, you won’t want to come back once you’ve gone.”

Daryl stopped and looked at Jesus. Jesus folded his arms, waiting for the outburst. Daryl scoffed and said, “You’re playing games. I told you before, I don’t like that shit. You should go see what needs fixing out there. I’m going to get Ayla.”

Jesus blinked, confused. Daryl did not sound angry, but he did not sound amused either. If anything, he was giving Jesus the brush off. 

“I’m not playing a game. I want you to talk to me, Daryl. This is about us,” said Jesus. “We’ve started something here, something that yeah, I would normally run from but I don’t want to this time around. I want this to work. But can you blame me? Can you honestly say that Alexandria doesn’t have a stronger hold on you than I ever could?”

Daryl was shaking his head again, rolling his shoulders, shifting back and forth, squaring for a fight like a boxer prepping in the ring. Jesus had no fear of Daryl taking a swing at him. The trauma from his past still ran deep in Daryl’s veins, enough that the first time he and Jesus had argued, a trivial matter, what Ayla would wear in the morning, Daryl had actually flinched away from him. Jesus’ blood had run cold, the memory of that moment chilled him even now, but he pressed on.

“Besides, you know Alexandria is too hot for either of you to risk it right now. What if they met you on the way? There is a price on your head and I can’t…I won’t let you pay it. Please.”

Daryl met his gaze, held it for a few beats and then folded his arms, pressed his back against the wall and said, “And what about after? When we’ve killed Negan and his crew, what happens then? You think I’m going to run home and forget about you? You think I could?” Daryl released his hands, stepped away from the wall but kept away from Jesus. “You’re a lot of firsts for me, you know that. You think this is something that I can just walk away from on a whim? This is crazy, man. If anything, I should be the one worrying about when you’re going to leave. I really should. I thought you would understand that when I said I wanted to go to Alexandria it just meant that I wanted to take Ayla to see them before the shit hits the fan and well, I know not everyone’s going to survive it. You’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

Jesus breathed in deep, exhaled and said, “Can we just wait until things are a little less dangerous? The road to Alexandria is too heavily patrolled now. You said that yourself.”

Daryl stared at him for a long time in silence. Then he finished putting on his shirt and walked out of the room.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Jesus waited for five minutes before he walked out to oversee the recovery from the Saviours’ visit. He did not have much to do but it was a distraction nevertheless. He did not want to think about going back to the room and not finding Daryl and Ayla there.

At dusk he took up a watch on the walls, his first in some months, just to keep himself busy. He hoped Daryl did not notice and think it was in case the other man had decided to take Ayla out anyway. Enough time had passed that Jesus knew he had messed up, and terribly so. The first words out of his mouth could have been…less confrontational. Daryl was the one who normally let his emotions get the better of him and even he might have used more tact. Jesus groaned at the memory of the expression on Daryl’s face. In that moment, he looked as if Jesus had slapped him.

“Shit,” Jesus said, sighing.

He had not seen much of Maggie and the others since the fight and he hoped Daryl had not said a word. He doubted the other man had, but he could not help feeling that they had been giving him a wide berth. It would be just as well that just when he found a family of his own, that he would find a way to destroy it. Daryl wasn't stupid, he would never take Ayla into danger just because he missed his people. 

It took forever for his watch to end. His replacement, Kal, was late but Jesus barely heard his excuses. There was no one about to interrupt his walk back to Barrington, not even Gregory who had made himself scarce after Daryl’s threat. Jesus resigned himself to a long, lonely night at the door to his room. Then he opened the door and walked in to find Daryl and Ayla on a chair near the window.

Jesus froze in the open doorway, stunned. Daryl glanced over at him and said, “She wanted to wait for you to sing her goodnight, but I can’t sing for shit and I don’t know the words to that song.”

Jesus just stared at him. Daryl stood up and walked over to Ayla’s bed to lay her down. “Close the door, it’s cold out there,” he said.

Jesus took a breath, stepped in and shut the door. When he turned again, Daryl was standing beside Ayla’s bed looking down at her. Jesus opened his mouth but Daryl spoke first, “I’m still mad at you, just so you know.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jesus at once. 

Daryl did not turn to look at him, but Jesus did not care. He had to get the words out. “I…I realise how what I said must have sounded…I didn’t think about what I was saying and how it might…” He stopped, exhaled and said, “I’m sorry. I trust you. More than you know and quite frankly it scares me. I…I want you to know that. Not the scare part but that I do trust you. Please understand this.”

This time Daryl turned, looked Jesus over from head to toe and said, “Okay.”

Jesus nodded at this, straightened his spine a little and said, “Can you give me another chance?”

Daryl lifted an eyebrow and asked, “We’re still here, aren’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has also been a casualty of my writing slump and well, I hope it reads better to you than it did to me. There is a vague plan in my head but maybe I gave myself too much leeway.


End file.
